


when it hits

by afuzzyowl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, hanamaki is the best friend ever, not crack but there's like humor there kinda LOL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:33:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afuzzyowl/pseuds/afuzzyowl
Summary: You (21:08):HELP ME WAHT DO I DOMakki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:08):first maybe let him know that ur experiencing explosive diarrhea and not just hiding out in the bathroomYou (21:09):I CAN’T TELL THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE ABOUT MY WAR ZONE BOWEL SITUATION OK MAKKI PLZ BE REASONABLEOikawa is in the middle of a candlelit dinner with the most attractive, charming, endearing man when his stomach suddenlyroilslike it did that one time Ushiwaka tried calling him by his first name.





	when it hits

**Author's Note:**

> heLLOOO IT'S BEEN SO LONG :') hope you enjoy

When his mom first mentions in that casual-but-not-really way about a friend’s gay, single son, Oikawa scrunches up his face in some mixture of embarrassment, indignation, and derision. He’s Oikawa Tooru, former star setter of Todai, one of the best physical therapists of the region, and most of all, Number One Eligible Bachelor of 2017, according to Volleyball Monthly—he does not need help getting a _date_. Especially not with some dude who needs his mom to set him up, probably because he’s smelly and greasy and stays at home playing video games all day.

But then his mom turns her puppy-dog eyes on him and complains a little about how he’s always so busy that he never visits her, and can’t he just do this one thing for his dear old mother, and Oikawa has no choice but to concede.

Now, standing in front of a sculpted, sharp-eyed man, sunset illuminating him like a goddamn halo, Oikawa is ready to collapse on his knees in gratitude.

“Um, Iwaizumi H-Hajime, I presume?” he stutters, then curses himself because Oikawa Tooru does not stutter. No matter how devastatingly handsome his smelly-greasy-Netflix fling turns out to be.

The man shifts to fully face him, and lord, he looks _so good_. His suit clings to broad shoulders, snug around his back, tapering to a slim waist and long, athletic legs. “Oikawa Tooru?” he says, with the kind of voice that would sound phenomenal in a growl. Oikawa wishes he'd worn his nice suit.

“Yes,” he says, flashing his trademark cheeky grin, hoping the corners of his mouth aren’t twitching enough that Iwaizumi is able to tell. “Gotta say, this is my first time doing this kind of thing. Usually, I just have my squealing fan club chasing me around, y’know, so you’re real lucky I’m giving you the time of day, ha,” he blurts. It’s supposed to be a joke, but with nerves, his tone comes out much too close to arrogant. He regrets the words the second they’re out of his mouth.

The polite smile on Iwaizumi's face freezes for a second before it slips, eyebrows rising and lips pressing into a line. “Riiiight,” he says slowly. "Yeah, I’m sure the ladies really appreciate that personality.”

Oikawa laughs shrilly, his heart sinking. Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow, the slightest hint of an upward curve to his lips.

“Good thing I’m not a lady then, huh,” he says.

Oikawa’s mouth falls open. A shiver runs down his spine, excitement sparking in his gut. “Well, you’d be right about that, Iwaizumi-san!” he exclaims. “Worry not—I’ll prove to you that I’m nothing short of absolutely delightful!”

Iwaizumi looks like he’s trying really hard not to roll his eyes. “Uh huh. Anyway, wanna head in now? Reservation’s for eight.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve never been to this steakhouse before, actually, so lead the way.”

“I haven’t either. I thought you guys chose the restaurant.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m pretty sure my mom just googled “nice restaurants” and sent us here as guinea pigs.”

Iwaizumi exhales out of his nose in a laugh. Oikawa thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

*

The hostess leads them to a corner table on the third floor that overlooks the darkening city from its window wall. A single candle flickers between them, its soft light catching occasionally on the sharp lines of Iwaizumi’s cheekbone or jaw.

Oikawa watches his throat bob as he takes a sip of water, self-consciousness washing over him anew in the dim, muted atmosphere. The last time he was on a date was in college, so he’s admittedly rusty. More than that, though, it’s Iwaizumi himself—Oikawa has never wanted to simultaneously annoy and smother a person in affection so badly before, and it's messing with his rhythm.

“So, uh, where did you just come from, Iwaizumi-san?” he tries, fingernails clinking restlessly against his glass.

“Work,” Iwaizumi replies, short and sweet. “We had a meeting.”

“Ah, I see.” Usually, conversation rolls off of Oikawa’s tongue like he was born for it, but now he struggles to find something socially acceptable to say, rather than just the _arms-ripped-handsome-I-wanna-lick-him_ chanting in his mind. “It sounds like the type of job where you have to get used to wearing a suit.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Nothing beats sweatpants and a cold beer though, honestly.”

The mental image definitely does not help with Oikawa’s mounting thirst, but he perks up, grin inching its way up his face. “So you’re actually a brute, huh, Iwaizumi-san! I should’ve known. You don’t prefer this kind of fine dining, then?”

“Steak is fine. I like meat.”

“Oh my God.” The snort that comes out of Oikawa’s throat is wholly inelegant and unintentional. “You are such a stereotype. This is the greatest. I feel like I’m on a date with He-Man.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows scrunch up, and it’s an oddly fitting look for his features. “You’re weird.”

Oikawa leans in closer, his expression the epitome of bliss. “So I’m told often enough, but you make it sound like a compliment, Iwa-chan.” As expected, Iwaizumi’s scowl immediately deepens, and Oikawa feels that same glee flare through him.

“You did not just call me Iwa-chan.”

“Oh, but I did, Iwa-chan.”

“No. Take it back.”

“But it’s so fitting!”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is _not_.”

“Is _too_.”

Challenge ignites in Iwaizumi’s eyes, and he crosses his arms, scoffing. “What, you think you’re the only one who can come up with nicknames?”

“I’m sure you’ll eventually think of something brilliant, Iwa-chan. I believe in you. In the meantime, please tell me more about yourself because I am starting to get hangry and require a distraction.”

“Hangry?”

“Yes. I barely ate lunch because today was busy.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “That’s not healthy.”

“Yes, I am aware, Iwa-chan. But there’s nothing I can do about it now, so like I said earlier, if you could get on to the distracting me part, that’d be great.”

Iwaizumi wrinkles his nose in distaste, but then Oikawa flutters his lashes and Iwaizumi can’t hold the expression anymore, rolls his eyes and melts into a grin with just the barest hint of teeth. Seriously way too cute. Oikawa’s gonna combust. “Fine,” Iwaizumi finally acquiesces. “So I’m a sports journalist, and I played volleyball competitively in college.”

*

Their appetizers come and go in a blur, and it all tastes heavenly, but Oikawa has never in his life had so much fun just talking with someone before so he honestly can’t remember much about the food.

Two bites into the steak and mid-moan about how tender it is, Oikawa feels his stomach twist. He pauses in his chewing, alarmed. Eventually, it passes, before suddenly returning with a vengeance, the pain nearly making him gasp. He picks up his napkin, dabbing at the corner of his mouth, and smiles benignly at Iwaizumi.

“Excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Washroom’s over by the stairs, if that’s where you’re going.” Oikawa gives him another tight-lipped smile as he feels the wave returning and hurries off.

The second he locks his stall door in the thankfully empty bathroom, he groans, tearing at his pants. His stomach is burning like a fire’s been lit within, and he quickly sits, hands clenched in fists.

After a particularly searing wave of pain, Oikawa pulls his phone out, teeth gritted.

**[SMS Conversation with “Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭”]**

**You (20:46):**  
makki i need help

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (20:47):**  
??? u ok??

 **You (20:47):**  
my stomach

 **You (20:47):**  
my butthole

 **You (20:47):**  
i can’t

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (20:48):**  
wait i thought u were on a date with ur moms friends son or w/e

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (20:48):**  
if this is u bragging about amazing sex oikawa i swear to god

 **You (20:49):**  
NO I FUCKIGN

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (20:52):**  
???

 **You (20:53):**  
1 sec

 **You (20:58):**  
omfg i almost died just now

 **You (20:58):**  
IT’S DIARRHEA OK

 **You (20:59):**  
I HAVE LIKE

 **You (20:59):**  
LIQUID FIRE SPURTING OUT OF ME RIGHT NOW

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:00):**  
tmi dude

 **You (21:00):**  
I DUNNO WHAT TO DO

 **You (21:01):**  
I’M IN THE ABTHROOM AND MY BUTT IS ON FIRE AND HE’S SO CUTE I LIKE HIM SO MUCH BUT MY BUTT IS ON FIRE

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:01):**  
LOL 

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:01):  
** wow u actually like someone? hello r those pigs i see flying outside the window?

 **You (21:08):**  
RUDE

 **You (21:08):**  
HELP ME WAHT DO I DO

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:08):**  
first maybe let him know that ur experiencing explosive diarrhea and not just hiding out in the bathroom

 **You (21:09):**  
I CAN’T TELL THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE ABOUT MY WAR ZONE BOWEL SITUATION OK MAKKI PLZ BE REASONABLE

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:09):**  
but its better than him thinking ur bailing right

 **You (21:09):**  
uggggghhhhhhhhh i can’t do thissss

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:10):**  
hey at least u guys will have the best first date story ever

 **You (21:10):**  
THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NO W YOU HEATHEN

 **You (21:10):**  
HE’S NOT GONNA WANT ME ANYMORE AFTER THIS

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:10):**  
stop being dramatic everyone gets diarrhea sometimes

 **You (21:11):**  
NOT OIKAWA TOORU

 **You (21:11):**  
ESPECIALLY NOT DURIGN A DATE WITH HIS SOULMATE

At this point, Oikawa pauses because a suspiciously long amount of time has gone by without him feeling like his insides are going through a meat grinder. He checks his watch, shocked to see that twenty minutes have passed, but waits another two minutes to be safe before cleaning himself up and zipping up his pants again. He rushes out and scrubs his hands, praying that Iwaizumi is still there. His phone vibrates in his pants.

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:11):**  
ur soulmate lmao

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:14):**  
yo u alive?

 **You (21:14):**  
yeah i think it’s stopped thank god gonna go bakc now thx makki

 **Makki ੧(❛▿❛✿)੭ (21:14):**  
sure, u embarrassment

Oikawa walks as quickly as he can without breaking into a jog back towards his seat, weaving between friends and families dressed in their finest clothing. To his relief, Iwaizumi is sitting there, poking at his steak. He visibly relaxes when he sees Oikawa. Oikawa’s chest squeezes.

“I’m really sorry,” he says sheepishly, gingerly sitting down and smoothing out his pants. “There was a bit of a line for the washroom. And then, uh, I think they had an issue, so I had to go use the second floor one.”

“Oh, okay,” Iwaizumi says with a faint smile, and shrugs. “It’s fine, just thought your food would get cold.” Oikawa literally feels Cupid’s arrow impale his heart. It only makes him feel guiltier and he debates telling Iwaizumi the humiliating truth because lying to him feels wrong and disgusting somehow.

He bites his lip. “Uh, actually, Iwa-chan, the thing is, I—”

And then his stomach churns again, and Oikawa realizes it’s not only the guilt that’s making him feel queasy. The blood drains from his face. Iwaizumi stares at him, confused. “Uh, you all ri—”

“Yeah, sorry, I gotta—mmmnnn—” Oikawa gestures vaguely towards the bathroom and practically takes off running, praying he’ll make it. He’s steps away from the stall when the pain almost overpowers him, his knees buckling. He hobbles inside, latching the door.

His stomach hurts so much, even more than earlier, and he doesn’t know why this is happening, why why why, why today, why now of all times? It’s probably the expired milk bread he ate earlier that day, god why can’t he ever eat like a proper adult? This is probably his body’s payback. Tears prickle in his eyes, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck.

His insides empty themselves in the most excruciating way possible, and Oikawa considers texting Hanamaki again, but he can’t find the energy to do so. There’s no point, anyway, it's not like Hanamaki can magically give him a new stomach.

He thinks back to Iwaizumi’s stunned expression and puts his head in his hands, sighing.

What feels like an eon later, Oikawa reaches for the toilet paper and pulls, only to find the last section in his hand.

He stares blankly, horrified, then begins frantically looking around for an extra roll, but nothing’s there. No one is in the bathroom with him, and no one will probably come in for the next while, given that the third floor is relatively empty of customers for the night. He could try getting up and sneaking to another stall—nope, never mind, that is definitely not a possibility with the current state of his butt.

“H-Hello?” Oikawa whispers, and then louder, “is anyone out there? Anyone at all? Helloooooo~?”

He’s met with silence. Panic wells in his chest as he fumbles for his phone. Hanamaki, bless him, picks up on the third ring.

_“Hello? Oikawa?”_

“Makki, where the hell are you right now?”

_“What? I’m at home. What happened?”_

“I’ve run out of toilet paper.”

Hanamaki pauses, and his voice is flat when he says, _“What.”_

“I’m in the bathroom at the restaurant and there’s no toilet paper and no one around and Iwa-chan is waiting for me at our table I need toilet paper _right now_ , Makki!”

 _“Aw, fuck,”_ Hanamaki mutters. _“Okay. Uhh. You sure you can’t shout for help? No one’s there at all?”_

“No,” Oikawa whimpers, desperate. “I tried already.”

_“Listen, calm down. Deep breaths. Hmmm. So do you want me to like...drive over with toilet paper or something?”_

“I don’t know, what do I do, Makki, fuck, fuck—”

_“Dude, you have to let your guy know first, he’s gonna be super confused and pissed and upset—”_

“I don’t have his number,” Oikawa wails. “We just met up at the restaurant after my mom told me what he said he’d be wearing, so I can’t even tell him, oh my god what do I do!”

 _“Fuuccckkkk,”_ Hanamaki breathes. _“Fine, gimme just fifteen, no, ten minutes, I’ll get there as soon as possible. Call if you need me, can’t text while driving."_   The line goes dead.

Oikawa is tempted to get on his knees in undying gratitude for the second time that day when he hears the door to the bathroom whoosh open, and he gasps, ready to shout for help.

“Oikawa?”

His heart stops in his chest.

“Oikawa, you in here?”

His mouth opens and closes, and boy, now he really feels like crying, the whole situation is so mortifying. What is he even supposed to say? _Sorry, Iwa-chan, I ate expired milk bread earlier this morning ‘cause I’m utter shit at taking care of myself and now as you can see I am suffering from the worst bout of diarrhea I have ever experienced in my twenty-six years and god I am seriously so sorry for leaving you alone for half the meal this is probably the worst first date you've ever had in_ your _twenty-six years and holy Mary the stench is probably also enough to knock out a horse I would know because I’ve been sitting here stewing in it for the past half hour and am still struggling not to just die._

But he can’t say any of that. So he sits there, teeth digging into his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes shut.

The footsteps approach, and he holds his breath.

“Oikawa, I can see your shoes,” Iwaizumi says, voice low. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Oikawa inhales sharply. He hadn’t thought Iwaizumi perceptive enough to remember his shoes, but now he knows, and yeah, Oikawa’s gonna go throw himself off a bridge.

“U-Um, Iwaizumi-san,” he squeaks, voice cracking. “I’m really sorry, I just...uh...”

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi says, voice coming nearer. “Why—”

“No, wait!” Oikawa cries. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

The footsteps pause. “...All right...?” They fade a little as Iwaizumi steps away, and Oikawa exhales shakily, his face burning.

“Sorry, my stomach is not in the best condition right now. Um. I sincerely apologize for ditching you for so long, but it was out of my control, I think it was something I ate...” Oikawa clears his throat. “I also kind of. Uh. Ran out of toilet paper.”

There’s nothing but silence for a bit. Then Iwaizumi huffs out a laugh, and to Oikawa’s greatest relief and amazement, he only sounds amused when he says, “I’ll grab you some.”

“No, that’s okay!” Oikawa screeches. “You don’t have to! I would actually really prefer if you would leave and let me wallow in self-pity!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi chuckles, and Oikawa splutters. The other man walks to the adjacent cell and grabs a roll, tossing it under the partition to him. “Here. Stop freaking out and just stay in there as long as you want, got it? You probably shouldn’t be eating anymore tonight, so I’ll get them to pack your food up. I’ll be back in a few.”

By the time Oikawa unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Iwaizumi is gone. He cleans himself up again, face still blazing like the Sahara, and hobbles out to wash his hands.

True to his word, Iwaizumi returns within minutes, Oikawa’s coat, food, and a tiny box in one hand. He offers Oikawa a glass of water with his other. “You risk dehydrating yourself after diarrhea,” he explains, and then shoves the box at Oikawa, who realizes it’s medicine.

“Where did you...?”

“The pharmacy across the street,” Iwaizumi replies with a wry smile. “They’re open twenty-four-seven.”

“Oh,” Oikawa says quietly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re okay to leave?”

Oikawa flushes. “Yeah, I really doubt there’s anything left in my intestines,” he mumbles, and Iwaizumi grins.

“How are you getting home? I drove, so I can give you a ride if you want.”

“No, that’s totally fine, actually I—”

“OIKAWA!” The door to the bathroom bursts open and they both flinch, Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shooting up and Oikawa gaping because goddammit, he completely forgot. Hanamaki catches sight of Iwaizumi too late and freezes, the door shutting with a final click behind him. A toilet paper roll is half-crushed in his hand.

“Er,” he says. “Hello. I’m Hanamaki. Oikawa’s best friend. And housemate.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, Hanamaki staring back but also glancing in bewilderment at Oikawa, who looks nervously back and forth between the two of them. A section of the toilet paper roll unravels, fluttering between them. Hanamaki straightens, scratching his head.

“So, like, is this the part where I threaten that if you ever hurt him, I’ll make voodoo dolls out of your ballsack?”

* * *

Later that night, Oikawa lies face down on his bed in the laziest attempt known to mankind at suffocating himself. Hanamaki is still occasionally bursting into cackles like he’s been doing the whole ride back from the restaurant.

Oikawa throws his extra pillow in Hanamaki’s general direction without looking up, but even the thump and muffled “oof” aren’t enough to make him stop wanting to run into traffic. “What if he doesn’t call me,” he whines. “What if he thinks I’m a total idiot and gross and undeserving of his love.”

Hanamaki sighs. “I mean, he did ask for your number even after all that. I don’t think you have to worry.”

“He was probably doing it just to be nice,” Oikawa mutters. “Didn’t you see how nice he was? He went and got me medicine. And a glass of water. Because he was worried I’d be dehydrated. _And_ he paid for the meal.”

“A true man. Or a mom, I can’t tell,” Hanamaki muses. “And sexy to boot, damn, that guy is fit as fuck. Yeah, I can see why you like him.”

“But it’s not just that,” Oikawa moans, kicking his legs. “Sure, he physically looks hot, but it’s also the way he holds himself and the way he talks, like, all calm and steady and a little grumpy. And how his body language is attentive but subtle, like he’s paying attention because he’s interested, not because it’s an obligation. Plus he’s genuine and caring and calls out my bullshit like it’s his job, and he’s prickly on the outside but radiates this odd warmth, his smiles are these tiny little reluctant things and he laughs like it’s surprised out of him, and I just,” Oikawa digs his nails into his sheets. “Want him to be part of my life.”

Hanamaki doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he breathes out, slowly, the way he always does before he says something super insulting. This time, he just says, “That was really fuckin' gay."

“Yeah,” Oikawa laments.

The two of them lie there for a while, one on the bed, one on the floor, and brood about life.

A phone suddenly begins vibrating. They whip their heads up to stare at each other as the vibration shifts into a ringtone, Oikawa hopeful, Hanamaki surprised, as Oikawa’s Star Wars theme music plays from his desk. Oikawa scrambles across the bed, choking on his tongue when he sees “Iwa-chan” lighting up the screen. Hanamaki climbs up to join him on the bed and peeks over his shoulder, whistling. “Damn, did not think he would call you the night of. You must’ve charmed him with your shit. Literally, ha.”

“That is not funny,” Oikawa hisses, smacking Hanamaki on the shoulder. “What do I do?!”

“Pick up, duh.”

“Oh my God, what do I say?”

“Oikawa,” Hanamaki deadpans. “Fucking answer before he hangs up.”

“Right, right.” Oikawa takes a deep breath, clears his throat, and jabs the answer button. “Hello?” he says, then winces because ew, his voice was not made to go that high. Hanamaki snickers and Oikawa elbows him in the ribs.

 _“Is this Oikawa?”_ a gruff voice says.

“Yes, yes, that’s me.”

_“It’s Iwaizumi.”_

“Ah, I figured, haha. Hello, Iwa-chan. Um. It’s nice to hear from you.” Beside him, Hanamaki is rolling around, clutching his abdomen in silent laughter. Oikawa begrudgingly gives him points for keeping it down.

_“How’s your stomach?”_

“Good! I think I’m all better now. The medicine helped, so thank you—you didn’t have to do that.”

_“Wasn’t a big deal, the pharmacy was right there.”_

“Right.” Oikawa chews on the inside of his cheek. “But thanks anyway.”

Iwaizumi does his amused nose-exhale thing, and Oikawa turns to Hanamaki, trying to convey how fucked he is with just his eyebrows. _“You’re welcome.”_

“So uh...was there any other reason for you to call...? Not that I mind talking to you, Iwa-chan! On the contrary, talking with you is, like, at least in my top five list of things I like to do! I was just wondering.”

Iwaizumi coughs. _“Actually, I wanted to ask if you were free next Saturday.”_

“Oh?” Oikawa wrings his duvet with his hand. “Is Iwa-chan asking me out on a date? Did you enjoy Oikawa-san’s presence that much?”

_“Well, all I figured out from dinner today was that he’s kind of shitty, pun intended.”_

Hanamaki howls with laughter, smacking the mattress, and Oikawa is speechless. “Iwa-chan!” he cries. “Not nice! I thought I was going to die! Food poisoning is not a joke!”

_“Yeah, maybe that’s what you get for eating milk bread all the time. How have your teeth not rotted off yet? It’s a mystery.”_

“H-How’d you know about the milk bread?!”

Hanamaki stops laughing. Oikawa vows to dismember him. “But anyway, yes, I’m free on Saturday. What did you have in mind?”

_“You said you liked aliens and crap, right? How about the planetarium?”_

Oikawa gasps out loud, putting his hand over his heart.

“Holy shit,” Hanamaki says. “Husband that guy.”

“Yes!” Oikawa breathes. He means for it to come out cool and nonchalant but it sounds like he’s agreeing to a marriage proposal. Not that he would be opposed to that, but Iwaizumi doesn’t need to know yet.

_“I’ll text you, then. Now go get some rest, idiot. Goodnight.”_

“Wait! Iwa-chan!”

_“What?”_

Oikawa fiddles with a piece of lint on his sweatpants. “I’m, uh...just a little curious about something.”

_“Spit it out already.”_

Oikawa swallows. “Whyareyouaskingmeoutonanotherdate?” he forces out.

Iwaizumi pauses, his breaths quiet. _“I don’t know,”_ he finally says. _“You’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met, but for some reason, I don’t hate it.”_ Oikawa feels his cheeks warm, his hand clenching into a fist.

_"Your mom pretty much begged my mom to make this happen, and I was going to turn it down, but. I guess you're not so bad."_

Oikawa was on the verge of tears. "Iwa-chan..."

_“That, and also, what the fuck kind of person calls his friend to bring him toilet paper? Why didn’t he wait for someone to come in? Why didn’t he call the restaurant’s front desk? How dumb can he get? I have to know.”_

“IWA-CHAN!”

*

After Iwaizumi hangs up a half hour later and Hanamaki slinks back to his room, snickering about his newfound abs from laughing, Oikawa snuggles into his comforter and texts his mom.

 **You (00:02):**  
how did you know・:*(〃∇〃人)*:・

 **Mothership ( ◜◒◝ )♡ (00:03):**  
Tooru, I am your mother. :)

 **You (00:04):**  
ೕ(˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑) i love you, mom. thanks. it’s late, you should go to bed now, goodnight

 **Mothership ( ◜◒◝ )♡ (00:05):**  
Love you too, my darling son. You’re not going to tell me more about your date? Mother is sad. :(

 **You (00:05):**  
(･口･) you’re not tired?

 **Mothership ( ◜◒◝ )♡ (00:06):**  
Ten more minutes won’t kill me, silly boy. Now tell me!

 **You (00:06):**  
okay, well. to start off, he calls me shittykawa because i literally spent half of our date shitting

**Author's Note:**

> i love iwaoi so much someone help me


End file.
